The Drunken Tales of a Vulgar Gentleman: Theoden's March on Hogwarts
by The Vulgar Gentleman
Summary: Theoden marches on Hogwarts for the glory of Slaanesh. This story is meant to be an emotional piece, to symbolize the horrors of war, the majesty of kings, the bitter taste of love snatched like a newborn lamb from it's mother by the glorious bastard eagle that is King Theoden of Rohan.


"You love my daughter?" Bob Granger asked.

"How could you not have known?! I've spent god knows how long showing signs of affection to the bloody girl!" shouted Harry.

"Well shit... Who's going to pay for the wedding?" Bobby Boy asked, still stunned that somebody could love his daughter, a feat not even he had managed.

Suddenly the wall crashed, a flaming boulder cascading through the room and out the other side. The new burning wound in the wall showed an army of near endless number, a sea of brown and dark green, at its head stood a man, if the term gave him justice.

He sat atop an angelic white horse, his crown and golden locks surrounded by a halo of light that almost burned the retinas with its glory. His armour bearing symbols of his people, a masterfully crafted work of art.

"Men of Rohan!" His voice boomed above his army and a silence fell upon the field, and in an all-too sombre tone (with just a hint of bloodlust), he roared "Fucking gut them!"

And his men poured forth like a tide upon the rock of Hogwarts. Some might think that the tiny bridge that connected Hogwarts would have saved them, but they would be dreadfully wrong. Fucking rainbow bridges opened up in front of the army to let them cross the chasm. The daemon host of the dread lord Theoden of Rohan were here for booty.

Walls were no match for the horses, for they were kicked down. The very laws of physics maddeningly were torn asunder before the wizards very eyes, more so than usual anyway. Spells bounced off shields, children lay skewered on pikes. Dorms were set ablaze with students and faculty inside, their screams echoing through the halls. Pleas for mercy were met with violations that a fair writer such as I could not do justice.

Harry and his bland and forgettable crew were huddled together in their dorm, last place to be sacked. The staff, mostly dead, with the most important being killed in a variety of special ways.

Dumblestiltskin was given the D, by which I mean the bloody eagle, or in his case the bearded eagle, since they also nailed his beard to his hands along with his lungs.

Macgonnagiggle was stuck on a pike with a shield nailed to her stomach and an owl shoved down her throat.

Finch did as he always did and had sex with the students' corpses, grinding some of them up for use in recreational drugs which he shared with the Rohirrim. He actually made some good friends with some of them and was made Theoden's jester because of how hideous and spiteful he was.

Snape just got high five and thirteen pieces of silver because he is a fucking Judas.

Nobody else was really important enough to be mentioned, except maybe that guy who taught Charms class. He was made into a sex slave who was sold to Sauron, well shit, not even I'd be that cruel, his decrepit burnt hands feeling you up... Ewww. Anyway back on topic and in proper writing tone... Where was I anyway? Oh yeah.

Harry was crying like a bitch.

Harry wept into his Twilight handkerchief as Theoden kicked open the door. A shining bright light filled the room and 'Lion of the North' by Sabaton played, except somehow the lyrics had been changed for Theoden, don't ask me how!

Harry screamed and wet himself. Pants were soiled, women ejaculated, men turned gay and defenestrated themselves, committing Sudoku out of shame in the light of Theoden's manliness.

"You!" he roared with the power of a thousand lions on methamphetamines. He held up a hand accusingly at Harry, who then exploded and reformed because Theoden willed it and as King of Rohan he had such power and strength of will that God himself could not hope to match him. "I'm going to fuck you up!"

He then shot lightning out of his finger and Harry summed up all his bravery and tried to deflect it with his wand. It was a fantastic effort and took a lot of balls, after which Harry had none, since it caused his arm and testicles to shoot off in various directions. His balls flew so far, in fact, that they reached Tibet, where monks venerated them, believing them to be the testicles of a venerable Boddhisatva.

So, Harry lay there, bleeding to death, while some of the Rohirrim took pleasure in his new orifices. With a grunt, one finished with his arm socket only for to be replaced by who else but Dobby?!

"We're sorry, former master, but we serve him now." Dobby looked up lovingly at Theoden and shed a tear.

"But Dobby! I thought you were my slave... my lover." A tear streamed down his face, whilst his mouth was plugged by a fresh dick belonging to a particularly old and venerable member of the Rohirrim. Dobby dismounted the orifice/wound and crawled up to Theoden's shoulder. He was watching the whole scene whilst enjoying a mead made from the blood of Ron.

"We serve him now, he is our everything." Dobby stroked his face like some kind of hideous chimpanzee baby and in turn recieved a backhand from Theoden. Dobby lay on the floor twitching in orgasm, Harry, enraged at the betrayal bit down, tearing flesh from the venerable warrior, castrating the poor old blighter. He screamed pain and curses and sent his foot crashing down onto Harry's skull as a bitter revenge.

"Be healed, my son." the Christ-like Theoden said and the Warrior's genitals were restored. He was rejuvenated to the prime of his youth, fulfilled to serve his lord again. He set about the rape and Harry cried, like a bitch. Shit was magical.

Theoden proceeded to pick up Hermione by the throat single-handedly, stripped her, bent her over his knee and proceeded to pour a concoction of drugs into her anus. He then proceeded to perform a feat of astounding analingus that left her anus completely dry. She came so hard, she turned into a female orgasm, just melted into vag juice right there on the spot.

Bob-me lad was standing there chained up to the wall, weeping in grief as he watched his daughter liquify herself in pleasure. He had the biggest shame boner, but this story is gay enough already. His intestines were basically torn out of his stomach and used as a guitar in a heavy metal concert Theoden felt like performing. It destroyed the east wing. There were no survivors.

After hours of pleasure and torture, drug abuse, rape, defenestration, action slow-mo and all that cool stuff, Harry sat there, his everything abused. He crawled to Theoden's temporary throne room, said throne being made out of bitches. He coughed and spluttered up the semen of a thousand dicks and gasped, no pleaded. "Why?"

Theoden smiled and a wave of pleasure overtook Harry, as if the world had opened up their arms and asked him if it could be his best friend and he said "For fun!"

The End


End file.
